


The Bigger Picture

by dear_monday



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_monday/pseuds/dear_monday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a man with a mind so sharp he keeps cutting himself on it, Gerard Way does an excellent impression of a particularly vapid goldfish. A silly little ficlet starring Gerard as the detective and Frank as his beleaguered assistant, inspired by <a href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m2mpmrY4Cb1r0v75co1_500.gif">this gif</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bigger Picture

**Author's Note:**

> short, sweet and utterly, eye-wateringly ridiculous, for [Soraya](http://frerardestiel.tumblr.com) on tumblr ♥

Frank scans the page of Gerard's diary, columns of his own neat handwriting littered with coffee stains and the odd word in Gerard's chaotic scrawl.  
  
"You've got that meeting with D.I. Schechter at two," Frank says, still looking down. "Then while you're at the precinct you should probably go apologize to sergeant Toro for what happened last week at the-- sir?"  
  
Gerard is staring vacantly out of the cab window. To anyone who didn't know him, it would look like he'd just zoned out. Frank, though, _does_ know him, and he recognizes the faraway look Gerard – no, that _Mr. Way_ gets when he's thinking. For a man with a mind so sharp he keeps cutting himself on it, Gerard Way does an excellent impression of a particularly vapid goldfish. Frank sighs inwardly. Mr. Way is brilliant, there's no doubting that, but there are days when Frank seems to do nothing but struggle with the profound urge to deck his employer.  
  
"Mr. Way?" Frank prods, when Gerard shows no sign of having heard him. "Sir?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
Frank kicks him in the shin with rather more force than was really necessary.  
  
Gerard jumps, turning to look at Frank like a wounded puppy. "You kicked me," he says.  
  
"You were doing that thing again. Meeting with Schechter at the precinct at two, formal apology to sergeant Toro while you're there."  
  
Gerard's brow furrows. "Formal apology? For what?"  
  
"Remember last week? With the--"  
  
"Ah," says Gerard, paling slightly. "That. Okay. Formal apology." he grimaces, probably reliving the Unfortunate Incident That Shall Not Be Named, as they've come to know it, then turns a blinding, megawatt beam on Frank. "I don't know what I did without you," he says earnestly.  
  
Frank smiles, ducking his head modestly. Just a throwaway comment, he reminds himself. That's all. Gerard said exactly the same thing to him two weeks ago, then called him "Fred" not an hour later. He knows Gerard is scatterbrained at the best of times and that he's an idiot for taking it personally, but Frank's ego is still a little bruised.  
  
"Here we are, sir," he says, giving himself a mental shake and leaning across to open Gerard's door for him before paying the driver. Frank has been carrying Gerard's wallet for him ever since he got wise to Gerard's frustrating tendency to forget to pay for things and leave things wherever he puts them down. Frank follows Gerard out onto the sidewalk, automatically straightens his tie for him, and they cross the empty street to the taped-off crime scene.  
  
  


  
  
"That was fantastic," Frank says, as they walk away again ten minutes later. He normally tries to keep any embarrassing gushing to himself (Gerard _knows_ he's damn good, the last thing he needs is to hear it any more often than he already does), but sometimes Frank just gets blindsided by how fucking good he really is.  
  
Gerard waves the compliment away. "All I did was join the dots," he says. "You were the one who noticed the guitar calluses. That was the giveaway."  
  
"Still," Frank says, and Gerard's nonchalant facade cracks, his big, childlike grin shining through.  
  
"It was pretty awesome," he concedes, and Frank rolls his eyes. He knows Gerard can't help himself, but that lopsided, uninhibited smile makes Frank uncomfortable. It makes it too easy for Frank to drop his guard and forget that Gerard is his employer, not his friend, and certainly not his-- well. Not his _anything else_ , is the point.  
  
"What I don't get," he says thoughtfully, as Gerard rakes one hand through his hair and lights up a cigarette. "Is how you can be so smart and so dumb at the same time."  
  
Gerard looks up at him, one eyebrow raised, and Frank replays that sentence in his head with a sudden sense of utter horror and impending unemployment. "I am so, _so_ sorry, sir," he babbles, cringing as he braces himself to go back to pounding the pavement for shitty temp jobs. "That was - I was speaking out of turn, I think I'm getting sick again, I don't even know what I meant--"  
  
"No," says Gerard, talking around his smoke, looking at Frank like he's a particularly intriguing puzzle to be solved. Frank dislikes that look almost as much as he dislikes the smile. "C'mon, you can't leave me hanging like that, what did you mean?"  
  
Gerard has apparently chosen this moment to acquire an impenetrable poker face, of course, the contrary fucker. But he asked, and at least he doesn't look angry, so Frank figures that it would be better to tell him now than to leave it and let it distract Gerard from his work for the rest of the day.  
  
"I just meant," he says slowly, choosing his words with care. "That it's kind of weir-- uh, unusual. You know, the way you don't notice all the big obvious things, but you catch every detail that everyone else misses. It's like... I don't know, like everyone else sees the bigger picture, but you're looking closer than that."  
  
Gerard exhales smoke into the cold, not saying a word. Frank waits for the axe to fall. It's been a good job, he reflects gloomily. The hours are ridiculous, the actual work itself is frequently maddening, but it pays well and there's never a dull moment. He's going to miss it.  
  
Gerard stops, looking at Frank intently, his cigarette forgotten in his hand. Frank looks at him, standing there in the empty alleyway with his tie hanging loose and lopsided again, his hair sticking up in all directions, his crooked mouth and his fucking _eyes_ , and it's just not fair.  
  
"The bigger picture," says Gerard.  
  
Frank nods.  
  
"I don't understand," Gerard says grudgingly. If there's one thing he hates, it's not understanding. "Are we still talking about the crime scene? Or the thing with Toro? Or..."  
  
"Oh, for fuck's _sake_ ," Frank groans. What the hell. If he's going, he's going out in style.  
  
He grabs Gerard by the hair, reels him in, and kisses the fuck out of him.  
  
Gerard lets out a startled noise against Frank's mouth, his hands flailing in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them. It tastes like kissing an ashtray, thinks the tiny part of Frank's brain that's still functioning, but Gerard's mouth is shockingly, deliciously warm in the October cold and Frank _wants_ , he wants too much.  
  
Eventually, he has to stop to breathe, and he staggers backwards. His heartbeat loud in his ears, his face hot and flushed. "The bigger picture," he says. "It looks like that."  
  
"I," says Gerard, and Frank lets out a startled, slightly nervous laugh.  
  
"Oh my god," he says. "Have I actually found out how to render the great Gerard Way speechless?"  
  
Gerard rolls his eyes, and somehow, that one little movement stops Frank's stomach churning. "Ha ha," he says. "Asshole. You can buy me dinner to make it up to me. Come on, haven't we got a meeting to get to?"  
  
He strides off down the street again, his coat fluttering behind him in the wind, and Frank shakes his head and stumbles after him. He's not entirely sure what just happened, but he doesn't think he should complain.


End file.
